Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

Landry’s caught up in his story, though. Her elbows are on the table and her eyes are sparkling with humor.

The shirt she’s wearing has pulled out from her jeans and a small portion of her spine is showing. The jeans slide low and I swear if I lean back I can see the top of a pair of lacy panties. I grab my Shiner Bock and pour it down my throat until the urge to slide my hand inside the back of her jeans is drowned.

“What happened then?” Davis hasn’t heard the whole story, only the highlights. He embellished a few details up on stage, but Rudd didn’t care. Davis’s ease with the crowd is a major reason why everyone in the club is engaged while we play.

“My foot is on the bottom step, but instead of going up, I look back. And then I see him. He’s pulled the motherfucking chain out of the ground. It’s trailing behind him like a big silver snake. He jumps forward and I just start running, pizza out in front of me. He’s barking like a rabid dog, chasing after me, that big-ass chain weighing him down. I almost make it to safety when my foot catches on the edge of a sidewalk. The pizza falls to the ground and then I land face-first into the steaming hot pie. A piece of pineapple flew off and burnt me” He points to his upper arm where there’s the tiniest white scar.

“And the dog? What happened to the dog?”

Rudd shakes his head mournfully. “That’s the worst part of the story. The Rottie started licking my face, eating the cheese and sauce and ham. I’m lying there with pizza guts all over my face, being straddled by a hundred-pound dog when Paulette strolls out of her house, holding hands with Brent Fuckface.”

“Love does hurt,” Landry says dryly.

“I know, right?” They trade high-fives.

She tilts her head to the side. “Are all your songs so inspired?”

“Tell her about the slushie one,” Rudd urges.

But before I can say another word, a group of girls appears at the end of our booth. They’re pretty enough, I suppose. By the expressions on Davis and Rudd’s faces, you’d think they walked off a runway.

“Want to dance?” a tall, thin brunette asks.

“Yes,” Rudd says immediately. He pushes at Ian’s shoulder, and our drummer gets up with a sigh. “Come on, Davis. Let’s go.”

Davis holds up one finger and downs his drink. He gets up and points to Landry. “Coming?”

“Nah, you go ahead. You don’t want your sister to cramp your style.”

The girls grab Davis and Rudd and drag them away before anyone else can form an objection. Although, I wasn’t planning on it. In fact, I give Ian a hard look. “I think I hear your wife calling.”

He snorts. “Doubtful.”

“Then leave,” I say bluntly.

“Adam!” Landry protests.

Ian rises. “Nah. I figure I can leave you two alone since we’re in public. What could you get up to?”

He wanders off, maybe to call his wife, but more likely to watch the dancers.

“I feel like that was a challenge,” I say, only halfway joking. I place a hand on her jean-clad thigh because it’s been far too long since I’ve touched her. “You should think about wearing skirts. “

A hand lands on my leg, not high enough to be in the same zip code as my dick, but her touch is enough to short out all my circuits.

“Maybe you should,” she teases.

“Move your hand a little higher, baby. I could be convinced.” Hell, I’d work a skirt into the wardrobe if that meant I could have her hands up it anytime we were sitting down. “I’m in a band. I can get away with that shit. So what’s on the table?”

Her fingers dance a little higher. She leans in, her mouth now barely a hand’s width away. “I heard you have a piercing,” she whispers, almost soundlessly.

I arch a brow. What did Bo’s and Noah’s girlfriends tell her? I tug on my eyebrow ring. “Like I said, move your hand a little higher.”

She does. Her thumb swipes across the ridge in my jeans, a touch so light I almost wonder if I imagine it. I reach down and place her finger directly over the ball of the half-moon ring that loops through the head of my cock.

“You don’t have to be careful,” I tell her, helping her stroke me.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Her touch is still gentle. I press down, showing her that she can go harder and rougher.